


Not a curse, but a blessing.

by Mrs_Understood



Series: How can you not adopt Peter Parker [11]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Tony Stark, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Depressed Peter Parker, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Deserves Better, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:32:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Understood/pseuds/Mrs_Understood
Summary: Parker Luck stricks again.When Peter is left alone after his aunt's tragic death he is convinced he is cursed. what other explanation is there for everyone he loves dying? So he does what anyone would, tries to ride the world of the curse.TL;DR: Peter is depresso and the team kicks Fury's ass.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: How can you not adopt Peter Parker [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1530086
Comments: 22
Kudos: 172





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy! Also, because I was dared, follow my TikTok: gretagiselle101 or @mayyourwififoreverbefast 
> 
> .... I feel no shame.

Peter sat cross legged on the building, staring at the crumbled note in his hand. He’d pulled off his spiderman mask, not wanting the suffocating feeling of the material on his throat or face anymore. He’d read the note enough to memorize it, but he continued to look at the words. The swoop of the letters and scrawled cursive script so familiar as his aunts. He’d need to find a place to sleep soon, but right now all he wanted to do was read and reread this over and over again. Sometimes he’d remember the very first time he’d read it, try to pretend he didn’t know the crushing ending. 

**_Hi Peter,_ **

**_I’m sorry if you are reading this, it means I was able to go through with my plan._ **

**_I’d been thinking this over for a long time, since your uncle died really,_ **

**_And I think I am bad for you._ **

**_We both know that you never eat enough because I can’t manage to get money for groceries together,_ **

**_And you have decided to take up two extra jobs to try and help me out,_ **

**_(Plus your ‘volunteering’)_ **

**_And I just don’t think it is fair to you to make you keep living this life with me here, when we both know the better option waiting right around the corner for you._ **

**_I have already set up a couple hundred dollars in your college fund, I drained my retirement money, or what was left of it, for that._ **

**_It isn’t as if I will be using it._ **

**_I am sure with your mentor and all you will be getting a full ride somewhere, probably to MIT, but that doesn't cover everything, you know?_ **

**_Anyway, I am sorry to add myself to the pain in your life, you never deserved this, just know that I am trying to make this better for you. I want you to be happy again Pete._ **

**_So I’m taking my own life._ **

**_So I guess Parker Luck strikes again huh? We both know that one way or another I would end up dead before I got old, this will be easier for everyone. Please take this note to Tony, don’t go inside._ **

**_I larb you,_ **

**_Aunt May_ **

He sighed, dropping his head into his hands for a moment, before reluctantly taking his suit off. New York was freezing in the winters, so he tried to wear as many layers as possible. Especially on patrol. But he couldn’t exactly walk around without his mask on, and the idea of the fabric on his neck right now was too much. At some point he would sling a web up somewhere and take a nap, he didn’t really sleep in eight hour increments anymore, but probably not for a couple hours. There was hardly any crime right now, what with everyone indoors, but there was still plenty to do. 

“Hey!” Someone called. He sighed, and hurriedly stuffed the rest of his suit into his backpack before spinning around to see a police officer in his car. He’d only cracked the window slightly to talk to Peter, but with the super hearing he could still hear fine. He imagined it would be difficult for others though. 

“Yeah?” He asked. 

“You’re violating curfew, you gotta go home kid.” the officer said. Peter almost smacked himself in the head. He’d completely forgotten about that. What with the worldwide pandemic and all no one was supposed to leave the house if it wasn’t an emergency, and not at all after ten. 

“Um…” He said. He really didn’t know where to go. He knew he couldn’t go face his aunt's body. He hadn’t known what to do after finding the note pinned to the door and her with a bullet in her head, so he’d stuffed ten or so belongings in a bag and taken off. That was two weeks ago. 

“Listed, do you have a safe place to stay tonight?” He asked. Peter couldn’t think of what to say. If he was lucky the man would just give up and let him go. “Okay, it’s either you get taken into the police station, or you walk yourself over to the homeless shelter, the choice is yours.” 

“Where uh,” He cleared his throat and started again. “Where is that...sir?” he asked, remembering to add ``sir '' just a second too late. 

The police officer gave him a sad look, before pointing behind him. “Two blocks that way, you can’t miss it. One of the only places with its lights on this time of night.” 

It was only eleven. Normally New York never sleeps. 

“Will do, uh, thank you… sir?” He said. 

The officer just smiled. 

“Just get yourself a safe bed for the night kid,” The man said, before pulling away. 

Peter gave a long sigh before turning around and walking to the bright spot several blocks away. 

It was only eleven fifteen when he got there, and he already felt disoriented. He had no idea the procedure for places like these. He’d stayed in one once, but that had been with his aunt, and he’d been young enough to remain pretty ignorant to everything that was happening. The lights inside were bright. Almost aggressively so, and he found himself blinking like an idiot when he stepped inside. 

He was about to look for someone in charge, or, even better, a nice sign with instructions that _didn’t_ talk, but before he could he heard someone call his name from across the entire room. Or, almost his name. 

“Hey! Penis Parker!” A voice hollered. 

He already made his choice to turn tail and run out of there as fast as his feet would carry him, which, with super powers, was awfully fast, but it definitely didn’t help when he heard an all too familiar voice reprimand the girl. 

“Young lady, that is not how to greet others when they- wait what did you say?” Steve asked. 

Peter ripped his eyes away from the odd sight of MJ and Steve talking, only to smack his face full force into the glass door. The glass broke, and he was pretty sure his face did too. 

He could now only barely hear their conversation, between a couple people fishing to fix the door and the other chatter increasing, it seemed he had walked into a dining room type area, but he could catch enough. 

“Short, annoying-” 

“Isn’t… avengers…” 

“I think I don’t know… we all call…” 

“Should… Tony…” 

Great, This was great. A few moments later, he found both Steve and MJ directly above him. Steve’s face was contorted with worry, while MJ, who was sporting a black eye and split lip, just grinned at him. He stuck his tongue out on reflex, wincing when the moment disturbed his busted face. “Ow.” 

“Okay, volunteer time is over.” Steve said, giving no further warning before wrapping one arm around Peters core and hoisting him up onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

He whined in protest, much to MJs amusement. 

“Look, he’s mewling.” She said. 

He pulled a face at her, making her boop his nose. “I’m changing your name on my phone to furious kitten.” 

“Noooo.” He replied, probably not helping matters, based on her face. It was just that his head already hurt from his impromptu meet-and-greet with the glass door, and even before then he was hungry and sleep deprived. 

“Okay Peter, I’m gonna call your aunt.” Steve said. He made an involuntary sound of disagreement. Steve set him down on the sidewalk several blocks away. Had they really been walking that fast or had he spaced out? 

“Oooh. Didn’t she, you know,” MJ said, miming shooting her head with her hand behind Steve's back. 

Peter nodded his head, keeping his eyes trained on Steve. He was pretty sure Steve couldn’t see behind him, but he wouldn’t be surprised. 

He hadn’t known what to do when he first found his aunt, so he’d called the only person he’d known wouldn’t stage an intervention, or call someone who would. MJ. Her life was so screwed right now there was no way she’d rat him out.

“What? What did she do?” Steve asked. \

Thank goodness he didn’t know.

“Nuthin’.” He muttered. MJ, to her credit, also kept her mouth shut, simply walking next to him and wrapping his arm around her thin shoulders. Had he been swaying on his feet? He’d really tried to not, but who knows. 

“Ugh. Fine, lets just go to your apartment and-” Steve started. 

“You can’t do that!” MJ interrupted. 

Steve looked at her with his most ‘I am captain america and you will respect me’ type stare. Luckly, MJ had watched enough rappin with cap videos, and read enough of their history textbook, to not take Steve seriously. 

“She’s working.” 

“During the pandemic?” Steve asked. 

“...She’s a nurse.” MJ said. 

“Fine, I guess that makes sense. Alright, lets just go get some clothing for you and then we can-” 

“I don’t own clothing!” Peter blurted out. 

MJ stepped on his foot. Hard.

“You don’t… own...clothing?” Steve asked. “Yeah, we're definitely going to your house now. Come on, we’re taking the subway.” 

“Great job genius.” MJ whispered. 

He just looked down. If they made it inside his house, they’d find his aunt, and if they found his aunt then they would know he knew, and if they knew he knew then who knew what- 

“Hey, earth to Peter here,” Mj said, grabbing one of his hands. “Stop that thing with your skin, it’s wigging me out.” He’d developed the habit of scratching deep into his skin and watching it heal in seconds. It helped him ground himself, but it also freaked Mj out. “It’s gonna be fine, kay, just like… don’t open your mouth and make it worse.” 

“I don’t know if I can do that. All I do is talk.” He whispered back. She nodded her head vigorously. 

“Yeah, dude I know. Believe me, I know.” She whispered back. 

He grinned slightly. 

“But this is only going to get worse the more you open your mouth, so please, for all of our sakes, just… stay quiet.” She whispered. 

He was going to say something back, but then Steve’s voice cut through their conversation. He’d moved farther away from the two teenagers, and was talking on his phone, and by the tone of his voice it wasn’t going well. 

“Tony- I, what do you mean fly?” Steve asked. 

Peter could barely pick up the other end of the conversation over the chatter of the subway, although it was admittedly much quieter than normal. Mostly doctors and nurses headed to or from the hospital. The city had opted to keep much of the public transportation open so people could get to or from the hospital. 

Still, he could hear Mr. Stark's voice at the other end of the line. “I put rockets on your motorcycle. What did you think that button was for?” 

“Well I don’t know what a rocket symbol looks like. With you it could have been cupholders.” Steve said. 

“What else could that possibly be?” He heard Tony ask. “Anyway, I can’t tap into the cameras in Peties apartment.” 

“What do you mean? You have cameras everywhere?” Steve said. 

MJ stifled a laugh looking at the other passengers' reactions to the one sided conversation. One person adjusted their mask and turned away, as if frustrating friends were a part of this illness. 

“True-” 

“Even Natasha can’t find them. Do you know how annoyed she is that she can’t find them Tony? So annoyed.” He continued. 

“Okay, I get it Steve, but the thing is, it’s not that there are no cameras in his room, it’s that he blocked the connection. Besides, I have Karen checking in on him.” Tony said. 

“Ugh. Fine, whatever. I’ll handle this myself. Thanks for not being any help.” Steve said. 

“You’re not welcome.” Tony said, hanging up. 

Just in time too, the train announced their stop. MJ tapped Steve's shoulder and nodded to the exit. They filed off, along with a few wary doctors, keeping their distance from Steve. Kinda ironic, considering Steve was one of the only people in the world unable to catch this. 

“Okay Peter, can you show us the way-” Steve started. 

Peter felt a panic bubble in his chest. He couldn’t talk about May with them, he wasn’t ready to deal with this yet. He opened his mouth to protest, but MJ beat him to it. 

“For crying out loud, let the weirdo go alone.” She said. “He’s probably got government secrets pulled up on his laptop or something and doesn't want us to see.” 

“I don’t think…” Steve started. 

Peter didn’t stick around to hear the rest. He pulled his mask, which had been balled in his pocket the whole time, over his head, and shot a strand of webbing at a nearby building, knowing full well he would be able to beat Steve in a race if it came to that. Luckily, when he glanced down he saw Steve talking with MJ. Neither looked happy, of course, but MJ could hold her own. 

Sooner than he wanted, he was met with his familiar bedroom window. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he slid the door open and slipped in. 

0o0o0o

“Hi, is this Natasha?” He asked. 

“No, wrong number.” A man with a thick Jamaican accent said. 

“Oh, I’m sorry s-” He started. 

“Just kidding! This is Clint, she’s… hiding.” He said. “I mean, technically I am to but I think my spot is soundproof.” 

“Okay, great. Never do that again. Um, wait where are you hiding?” 

“In a oven.” Clint said. “What do you need?” 

“I need a favor from you two.” He said. “Peter’s been acting-” 

“Strange so you want us to poke around in his apartment?” Clint asked. “Because that’s what we are doing right now.”

“Ugh. Nobody today will let me finish a sentence. Yes, poke around, tell me if you find anything relevant.” Steve said, hanging up before he could hear anything worse then what had already happened. 

He stood in tense silence with MJ for a minute, before he decided to start a conversation. “So… what happened to your eye?” 

“It was 3-D printed in a back alley.” she said without missing a beat. “JK. What do you think?” she asked, showing a doodle of Steve carrying Peter over his shoulder with Peter meowing. 

“I’m framing that.” He said. “For real though, the eye?” 

She sighed, tugging her olive green beanie over her ears a little further. “It’s a long story.” 

“I’m gonna find out anyway, but it’s either I hear it from you or go though Tony’s cameras.” He said. 

Normally he wouldn’t make a threat like that, but he was worried about the trouble she had gotten into. 

“Well,” She started, sitting on the curb. “My parents got divorced, but the only apartment my dad could find was across the hall from my mom. They fight con-stent-ly. And my dad is running some kind of creepy underground trafficking type thing. That’s how I got into social justice.” She said, gesturing to her Black Lives Matter shirt. “And then both of my parents spiraled at the same time, and so my mom got a...hustling job and quit her work at the bank, and my dad’s house is a party 24/7. Finaly he put a one way mirror in my room and I was over it so I left.” She said. 

Steve watched her face carefully as she spoke. She didn’t seem sad or scared or anything else like that as she told the story, but her fingers ran over something on her wrist over and over. To the point that he was almost worried about her wearing it out. Sensing now wouldn’t be a good time to press the issue, he changed the subject. 

“What's that?” He asked, nodding at the doodle. She smiled. 

“Peter drew an atom on my wrist the first time we met. I had one of my dad's friends go over it with his tattoo gun.” She said. Before he had a chance to react, she stood up, stretching, and nodded to him. “Your phones are ringing.” 

Surprised, he realised it was. He fumbled to pull it out of his pocket, ignoring her laughter as he tried to swipe the accept button. “Steve Rogers.” 

“Yea, I think we _figured out what happened_!” Clint said, his voice rising over the phone. 

He sat up. 

“What? What did you find?” 

“May’s dead.” 

“She’s _what_?” Steve asked. 

MJ looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. He nodded, getting the message to lower his voice. 

“Well, uh, I jumped out of the oven and then Peter screamed, and then we were just talking about why he was here, and he kept, like, not talking about what we asked, and then I heard _Natasha_ scream, and I figured we were all like, dead, and then I walked in and May was just… just like, lying there.” He said. 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“How dead is she?” He asked. “Like is there any hope or-” 

“She’s dead dead Steve. Me and Natasha agreed about two weeks ago. Somewhere between bloat and active decay.” Clint said. 

Steve nodded like he knew what that meant, and then remembered that Clint couldn’t see him. 

“I… okay. Two weeks. Okay that's uh… okay. Fine.” He said. 

Two weeks. Peter had been living in an apartment with a dead body.

“Alright, we’re gonna take him back,” Clint said. “He’s… I mean… Yeah. Okay, bye.” Clint said. 

Steve stared at the phone for several seconds. Finally he turned back to look at MJ, who was going through the trash. 

“We’re talking about your story when we get back home.” He said, “Get your hands out of the trash. Peter’s aunt is uh-” He started. 

“Dead. I know.” She said, grabbing whatever she was looking for in the bin and pocketing it before sitting back down on the curb. “Wow, the cops really aren't watching this street, are they?” 

“Wait, what do you mean you know?” Steve asked. 

MJ pulled an apple, which he was strongly hoping wasn’t from the trash, out and took a bite. 

“Well, he was acting all weird and mopy at school, and when I tried to tease him he just got quieter. I was tired of him giving me his whole kicked puppy face… so I tracked him.” she said, leaning her weight onto her elbows. 

“Tracked him how?” Steve asked. 

“Well I already know he’s spiderman- stop making that face, it isn’t hard to figure out- and so I just waited in his apartment. But he never came home. I was worried so I called him. He said he’d been asleep. I triple checked everywhere in his house and then asked him where he was. He said home so I confronted him.” She said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. 

“Tony’s gonna love you.” He said. “Be careful, he might just recruit you.” 

“Honestly I’d be fine with it.” She said surprising him. “I mean, I am opposed to massive amounts of wealth like he has, It’s one of the big things wrong with the world right now, but I see how he’s used his money, and it is actually pretty good. Between him and Peter there are three hundred thousand pounds less plastic in the ocean that is being broken down right now.” She said. 

“I guess that is a good-” Steve started. 

Of course, she couldn’t let him finish a sentence. 

“Furthermore, shockingly his ancestors never owned slaves. Crazy right? I mean with the name and money. They migrated just after the nation's civil war from Italy, and there are no records of them ever being slave owners.” She said, tossing the core behind her shoulder into the trash can. “Plus, he’s good for Peter.” 

“How so?” Steve asked, sitting next to her. 

She grinned slightly. 

“Well, Peter was… struggling. A lot. He’s the happiest person I’ve ever met, but he lost interest in everything. Not like he does when he gets busy with stuff, that’s different. It was like he… gave up. After he met Tony some strange part of him came back. Can’t say it’s his least annoying part, but it was good for him.” She said, shrugging. “Or maybe he’s been drugging him. Who knows.” 

“Wait, you said-” Steve started. 

“Whoop, looks like they’re here.” MJ said, standing up. Looking up, he did see Clint and Natasha walking around the corner, Peter trailing behind them. Peter had swung a black trash bag over his shoulder, and followed several paces behind, literally dragging his feet. 

“Is that May?” Steve asked when they got closer. 

Natasha gave him the most disdainful look he’s seen to date. 

“It’s his clothing.” She said. 

“Oh. I guess that makes sense-” He started. 

Suddenly his phone rang again. He sighed in annoyance and pressed decline. Despite this the phone picked up anyway. 

“Steve!” Tony said loudly on the other end. 

He sighed and lifted the phone to his ear. 

“Tony, why can I not decline your calls?” He asked. “That seems important.” 

“Only sometimes. Listen, that's not important right now, so I'm flying back from Florida right now, but tell Peter that he has a room on my floor, directly after Bruces and the labs, and tell MJ we’ll put an extra bed in his room until we can get her her own.” Tony said. “I guess we could also just put a bigger bed in there. Maybe ask them. Okay, bye.” Tony said, hanging up before he could question how Tony figured out MJ would be staying. 

“I have eyes everywhere.” His phone said, making him jump at least a foot. 

“ _Tony_!” A voice yelled. His phone beeped and, Steve assumed, Tony left. 

Steve dropped the device in his pocket, not wanting to think about what other creepy things Tony could be doing with it. Sighing, he looked at the group staring at him. 

“Let's get back to the tower. Tony will be there in a minute, he’s flying back from florida.”

“In a plane?” Clint asked. 

“I...assumed so. Why?” 

0o0o0o

When they got back to the tower after a harrowing bus journey, including more than one person pulling weapons. Oddly enough, MJ had been the most effective in shutting that down. He was pretty sure Natasha would adopt that girl at the drop of a hat. 

Tony was already back when they got there, his method of transportation forgotten, because when Peter walked in the door, he very quickly dropped his bag of clothing and hugged his mentor. Tony, to his credit, took the reaction completely in stride, hugging the teen back. After a minute, he instructed Peter to show MJ their room. Steve was going to ask if that was a bad idea, but Peter just nodded and went off. MJ followed with his clothing. 

“MJ, come back in an hour. I need to talk with you.” Tony said. 

Steve raised an eyebrow at that, but let it go. They waited for the teenagers to disappear down the hallway, before Natasha walked past him and handed Tony a rumpled note. 

“Peter gave this to me. Said it was pinned on his door.” She said, walking over to Tony's couch and sitting on the back. 

“Can I go wash the blood off me?” Clint asked. 

“Please,” Tony said, waving his hand. 

He stared at the note for a minute, before scowling and handing it absently to Steve to read. He tucked it in his pocket, intending to read later. 

“Thats… I can’t say I expected that.” Tony said. He rubbed a hand over his eyes hard before sighing. “Alright. We’re going to contact her lawyers. If this was as premeditated as it sounds she would have contacted them about custody of Peter. Do you two know where he was staying between now and when she wrote this?” Tony asked. 

“I assumed in the apartment.” Steve said. 

“No. I was in there with Clint, it hadn’t been lived in.” Natasha said. “He didn’t take much with him either, maybe enough to take in a backpack, but that’s it.” 

“He wasn’t with Ned,” Tony said. “Don’t look at me like that, I asked Friday on the ride over here.” 

“Definitely not MJ, she’s been in the shelter for a couple days already.” Steve said. 

“Great. I’m gonna go fill the lawyers in on what happened, Natasha- actually no, Steve… also no, I’ll get them clothing. Natasha, fill everyone in, Steve, either you or Bucky, make sure MJ eats something. Good? Good.” 

0o0o0o

Peter sat on his bed, resting his head on his knee. MJ had been taken by Bucky over twenty minutes ago, and he had been left alone with the promise of him doing nothing but sleeping. And he had really tried to sleep, he swore, but every time he closed his eyes it was like the worst montage, with basically every traumatic event of his life flashing before his eyes, starting with the plane and ending with May, over and over again. Sighing, he rolled off his bed. 

“Friday, will you turn on the lights please?” He asked. His voice sounded wrecked, even to his own ears.

“Of course Peter, would you like the overhead light or the light strips.” She asked. 

“Uh, whatever… just like… any light.” he said. A moment later his room was flooded with blindingly bright light, making him cover his eyes and maybe squeak just a little. 

“As I suspected. I will switch to a more comfortable lighting for you.” she said. 

A second later his room was bathed in a soft blue light, allowing him to re-open his eyes. 

“Thanks.” He said. 

“Anytime Peter, should I alert anyone to your state?” She asked. “Sir asked me to tell him when you regained awareness, but seeing as you technically never lost it, you can choose if I should alert him.” Friday said. 

He smiled a little. 

“No, no thanks Fri.” He said, sighing. 

“Of course.” she said. 

He stood up, looking around the room he and MJ were sharing. Tony had, true to his word, added an extra twin bed, with the promise that by the end of the week MJ would be moved out. She’d just shrugged and said she couldn’t care less, which was actually a surprising lack of apathy for her. He grabbed his phone and looked over the note Aunt May had left. He’d taken a photo when he first got it, just in case something happened. He had it completely mesmerised, but still. 

He closed his eyes again, snapping them back open when the images flooded his brain. He looked back up at the ceiling. 

“Hey Fri?” He asked. “If I… make a video, and put it in your database, can you promise to not show it until the time I set?”

“Of course. What time would you like to set?” She asked. 

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning. Please.” He said. 

She made a loading noise, before beeping. 

“Time set. Would you like to use the camera Tony has installed to film your video, or has it already been recorded?” Friday asked. 

“His camera. Please.” Peter said. Two seconds later, a front facing camera popped up, clearly from some kind of hologram. “Uh, how do I start it?” 

“It’s already started Peter, would you like me to end and restart the video?” Friday asked. 

“Ugh. No, whatever I’ll just… okay.” He said, rubbing his face with his hand. 

He absently noticed how badly his hands were shaking. Great. He’d probably look like a wreck in the film. Not that it mattered. 

“Okay, uh, hey guys.” He said, watching himself wave. 

Stupid way to start this video.\

“So um, I…” 

He looked at the note on his phone again, gritting his teeth. 

“At this point you will have probably figured out that basically everyone I know dies.” He said, trying desperately to smooth out his words. “Like everyone. Or I end up ruining their life some other way. Like Liz. Uh, only MJ will get that one, but it uh, it makes sense in context I guess. The point is I…” He racked a hand through his hair, trying hard to keep himself calm, if only for appearances sake. 

“I really like all of you, and you are all important people, but with May dead uh… there isn’t really anyone but you guys left to die and I really don’t want that to happen so… yeah. I guess if you see this you know what I am planning on doing. Okay, um… bye.” He said. 

Friday closed the video. 

“Anything else you need sir?” she asked. 

“Can you get me someone's number?” He asked. 

“Of course, who would you like to call?” She asked. 

“Nick Fury.” 

“Nick Fury has been added as a contact in your phone.” Friday said. “Anything else?” 

“No. Thanks Friday.” He said. 

“My pleasure.” 

He tapped the new contact, vaguely appreciating that it had come with a picture. The phone rang three times before Fury picked up. 

“Who is this and what do you want?” 

“Hi Mr. Fury. It’s Pe- Spiderman. Can I talk to you for a minute? I promise it’s important.” 

0o0o0o

“Tony we are talking about your control issues today or _so help me_ -” Sam yelled. 

Tony just laughed, dodging the annoyed man’s gaze by ducking behind something in his lab that he didn’t even fully understand. 

“Sorry, I’m very busy doing anything else.” He said. 

Fury had been tired of doing paperwork for them and had assigned them mandatory quarterly mental health analysis. Sam, who had done them so that SHIELD wouldn’t have to spend any money, had concluded that everyone on this team was ‘deep fried in trauma’. 

“Tony-” 

“Sir and Mr. Wilson, I request your attention.” Friday said. “A call still in progress has been flagged for containing several of the trigger words in my database. Would you like to listen to it from the beginning?” 

“See, this is what I was talking about-” Sam started. 

“Who made the call?” Tony asked, interrupting Sam. 

“Peter Parker made a call at 11:57, eight minutes ago, to Nick Fury. Would you like to listen to it from the beginning?” 

“Yes.” He said. Sam made a face behind him, but didn’t interfere. 

_“Who is this and what do you want?”_ Fury's voice said through the speakers.

_“Hi mr. Fury, It’s Pe- Spiderman. Can I talk to you for a minute? I promise it’s important.”_

_“Why on earth are you calling me? It is way too late for avengers stuff. Go to bed and then don’t call me tomorrow either, I would be happy to not hear from you again. Goodnight.”_ Fury said. 

Tony furrowed his brow at the harsh tone. It was definitely late, but Peter sounded like a wreck, even without context. He idly wondered why he hadn’t been alerted to Peter waking up. 

_“I know I know, I’m really sorry it won’t happen again but…”_ Tony looked at Sam, who seemed to be listening just as intently to the audio. “ _If I were to… die, how would that affect the team. Would it make your life a lot harder?”_

“Why is he asking that?” Tony wondered out loud. 

Sam shushed him. 

_“Why? Are you thinking about killing yourself or something? Some kind of stupid self sacrificial type suicide? I’m not discouraging it, It seems in keeping with you.”_ Fury said. 

Tony’s mouth dropped open. 

_“Maybe- it doesn't matter, how hard would I be to replace?”_ Peter asked. 

_“Pretty damn easy. Other people out there have superpowers, and the team barely knows you. Have you figured out how you plan to do this? I don’t need a big public-”_

“Friday, mute.” Sam said. 

Tony turned to glare at his friend. 

“What the hell? What was that for?” He asked. “There might have been important information in that call.” 

“Right now someone needs to go check on Peter-” Sam said. 

His sentence was interrupted by a shrill sounding alarm. 

“What's that?” 

Tony froze, he felt like his heart had actually dropped into his stomach. “That’s the suicide alarm.” 

0o0o0o

Peter woke up in a hospital room, greeted with the sight of Wanda sitting next to his bed. He winced at the light, which felt about equivalent to a million tiny swords stabbing his eyes at once. 

“Oh good. So you awake.” Wanda said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Hiiiiii.” He said. “What uh, what happened?” 

“You remember,”She said. “Peter, I have had another brother die before, Pietro. Maybe is a cursed name. I make sure that never happens to you.” she said. “I will show you what would happen if you go through all the way. Understood?” she asked. 

“Wha- no! No I do not! Where is everyone else?” He asked. She grinned. 

“With Fury. Me, MJ and Bruce stayed here. Bruce said something about ‘too tired to handle that’ and MJ and me were forbidden. Lets begin, shall we?” 

0o0o0o

“Hi, Fury.” Bucky said, handing Steve the rope. “Did you know that Tony records all calls made in the stark tower?” 

“What are you doing?” Fury asked, struggling as Steve tightened the rope. “Why do creeps keep waking me up in the middle of the night?” 

“In fact, you can hear every. Single. Word. spoken on a call. Not much room for deniability there, is there?” Bucky asked. Steve tugged extra hard on the rope. Bucky put a hand on his shoulder, not wanting to actually kill Fury. Yet, anyway. 

“Will someone tell me what's going on?” He asked. 

“Does this call sound familiar to you?” Steve said, hitting the play button on his phone. 

_“It… would really be that easy to replace me? Just like that?”_

_“Of course. Plenty of weirdo mutints crawling around here. Lucky for you no one on the team knows you yet.”_

_“Oh,”_

_“Well, you have the green light from me, spiderman. Can’t blame you for wanting to die, I would probably if I had your life. Won’t talk with you later.”_ Steve stopped the recording and Fury closed his eyes. 

“Yes, that is the call I made with Spiderman an hour or two ago, why do you care?” Fury said. “I stand by what I said, the team doesn't know the kid all that well, it would not be a huge loss to anyone if he-” 

“Okay, you know what, screw this,” Steve said, swinging a solid punch on Furys shoulder. 

Bucky and Steve had very different fighting styles. Steve operated on basically brute strength (even when he didn’t have any) whereas Bucky had always been sneakier.

“Steve, we need to make this look like an accident.” Bucky said. 

“You’re right. Thinking what I am?” Steve asked. Bucky nodded, which is how he then ended up throwing Fury down the stairs. 

“Clints turn!” They yelled. 

\-----

Clint, after carrying a cursing Fury tied to a chair, finally sat cross legged in front of the bastard. 

“You should have known after Tony, Fury.” He said, slowly taking his supplies out of his bag. “I could do a million things to make you hurt you know, I have just as much knowledge, and almost as much skill, as Natasha. But I don’t want to do that.” 

“Let me guess, you want to hold hands and skip over the rainbow bridge together? Because apparently Peter could keep you company when you do that.” Fury spat. 

“Do you know what Peter did after that conversation, Nick?” He asked. “He slashed his radial artery lengthwise. If he wasn’t a superhero he wouldn’t have survived the blood loss.” He said, quickly inserting the needle into Furys arm. “So you are going to donate blood.” 

“Like hell I am. I’m having all of you arrested once this is over.” Fury said, faking a yawn. 

“No you aren't. Fury, do you know how to kill someone by skinning them alive? I bet not, let me explain.” 

\---- 

“Sam, your friends are psychos.” Fury said as soon as Sam entered the room. 

“What the hell Fury. Do you know how old spiderman is? Or his name? Where did he grow up? The kid’s 15 and was scared out of his mind. He’s still grieving his aunt, who, by the was, just died, he’s-” 

“Are you planning on beating me up to, or is this a yelling only thing?” Fury said.

“No, I was planning on it, but now that I think about it, I don’t really want to spend the time,” He said, spitting on his face. 

\----

“Fury. Я заставлю тебя страдать до конца моей жизни и твоей” _Fury, I will make you suffer for the rest of my life and yours._

“Damn it Black Widow, you know I don’t speak Russian.” Fury spat. 

“Грязная ошибка” _Dirty mistake_. She spat at him, before removing a tiny, tiny metal pill, almost the size of a toy battery, and stepped closer to him. 

“I am going to assume you do not know what this is,” She said, allowing the Russian to slip through her voice. “It is a mercury tablet. You are going to take one, once a month until we are both dead. Do not worry, there is not enough to kill you, only harm you forever.” she said. He opened his mouth to speak and she darted. 

Quickly she placed the pill on his tongue before wrapping her hands around his mouth and nose, speaking quickly as she did. “Peter is one of the best people on this planet, and you helped harm him, to your knowledge, to kill him. Do not think this will be the only consequence. I am coming back for you Fury.” 

He swallowed the pill and she let go, smacking him hard across the face before turning around and leaving him there. 

\----

Loki hadn’t planned on cursing anyone when he came down to earth, but Fury deserved it. 

“See, every time he sneezes a hundred dollors are taken from his checking account and given to Crisis Connections in Seattle, plus ten to a homeless shelter for men, women , children and animals.” Loki explained as he drew the magic from the air, weaving the tendrils carefully. 

“That's surprisingly thoughtful.” Steve said, wrapping his hand where he had split his knuckles.

“Oh, he also shits himself.” 

\----

Tony stocked into Fury’s bedroom and slammed the door hard enough to make the doorframe splinter. He whipped around, seeing the doorframe wrecked. At least one good thing might come out of this visit. 

“Tony, to be honest, I have been dealing with your friends all day, and I just don’t have the energy for-” Fury started. 

Tony grabbed a knife left on the stand and sliced through the ropes in one movement, before throwing a rag at his face and some cheap bottle of alcohol. 

“Clean your face up.” he said. Fury raised an eyebrow but did as he was told. “Listen you asshole, every second I am here, the kid we are here for is sitting alone in a medbay, being kept company by one tramitized girl and a twenty something woman with creepy brain powers and enough emotional baggage to knock you out.” He said.

“So leave.” Fury said. “I don’t care.”

“Exactly. You don’t care. You have never cared about the avengers, even when Steve and everyone else came over here and yelled at you already.” Tony said calmly, picking up a much more expensive bottle of alcohol and poured himself a generous amount in a glass. 

“So? What do you want me to do about it? Play a team building exercise and dance a jig?” He said. 

“No, I’m going to give you a reminder about how powerful the team ‘under your control’ really is.” He said. “See this?” He asked, holding up the tiny chip to the dim light. 

“It looks like your confidence, what about it?” Fury said. 

“Ha, after I implant this I will probably deserve that. This chip,” He said, retaining it, “Has enough poison to kill four grown elephants,” He said. “High quality, pretty expensive to make too. I’d only want the best for you.” He said. 

“That’s illegal,” Fury said, seeming actually fazed for once. 

“You know I own the government, right?” He said. “Should be illegal. But don’t worry, I'm not gonna put it in your arm, what fun would that be? Arm’s aren't necessary, and they are fleshy. Easy to live without. Your brain however,” He said, placing a hand under Fury’s chin and tilting his head up, “Much more important.” 

“You are all insane!” Fury said, before Tony chloroformed him. 

“Oh, it controls your bladder too. Enjoy.” 

0o0o0o

“Tony, I can not, in good conscious, allow you to go talk to Peter right now.” Sam said, eyeing his friend. 

Tony had been pacing around the hallway while other teammates talked with Peter, sipping his ‘water’ (his words) and muttering to himself. He locked his eyes on Sams when he spoke. 

“I need to talk to him Sam.” He said. 

“I understand, but I don’t think that would be good for either of you.” Sam said. “Look we just had a big… thing with Fury, why not go to bed, sleep or whatever is in your system, and come back to talk to Peter tomorrow. I’m sure he will still be here.” Sam said. Tony raised his eyebrows in a way that made Sam want to turn around and run. Tony was nothing if not a good businessman. 

“Oh, you’re sure are you? Because we were all pretty sure he would be fine when he ‘went to bed’ and now he’s on the medbay.” Tony said. “In fact, I could go on for hours about all the things we were sure about that backfired spectacularly.” 

“I just don’t think-” Sam started. 

“You are letting Bucky do… whatever the hell it is that they are doing right now! Do you really think what I have to say would be worse than that?” He asked, gesturing to Bucky and Steve behind the glass wall. Sam turned his attention to the pair, talking to a very scared looking Peter. 

“...Which is when you realise that all your thoughts are worthless, so you can throw out everything that that voice in your head-” Bucky's voice said, seemingly patched through Friday. 

“Bucky!” Sam yelled, throwing the door open. “No! I mean, no to you too Steve, but Bucky, NO. Out, both of you.” He said. “How did this even happen? I gave you a script!” 

“Well Steve was being all boring and stiff, so I started riffing and…” Bucky said. 

“Whatever, I don’t want to hear it. Nat, you can go if you want to.” He said. Tony glared at him. He did actually intend on letting Tony talk, he just wanted him to calm down a little first. 

“Great.” she said, cracking her knuckles. 

“Wait, I am sitting in.” He said. 

She glared at him. 

“Oh come on, after Wanda can you blame me?” 

“I guess not.” She said. 

Sighing, he followed her inside. 

“Peter,” She said, sitting on the very edge of his bed. 

He swore he saw Peter back away a little. This was gonna be rough. 

“Hi Ms. Natasha.” He said. “Um, you still have a little blood on your face.” He said. 

Huh, Sam hadn’t noticed that.

“Peter, the third, and final, time the Red Room made me kill my parents, I vowed to myself I would never, ever, form any attachments to them, because in the end, all that would happen is they would be used against me.” She said. Sam raised his eyebrows. He had definitely not expected her to say anything like that. “And if I am correct, you feel similarly. However, you believed the best solution was to kill yourself, not everyone else, my preferred oath.” 

Peter nodded a little. 

“Do you know how that worked out for me? I’ll tell you. I was somewhere between 18 and 22, and killing innocent, or vaguely innocent, people like I had been instructed, and a idiot, and I mean, lowest IQ out there, a real Козел,” Sam didn’t understand the russion, but Peter laughed, “And that Козел decided to make it so, so easy for me to kill him just then. And so this weirdo, with too much hair gel, just stuck onto me. Here we are, too many years later, and I still can’t get rid of him.” 

“You are talking about Clint, right?” Peter asked. 

“What tipped you off, the idiot or the чрезмерное использование геля?” _overused gel_ She asked. “The point is, no matter what I did, I couldn’t kill him, and trust me, I was thorough. So I decided, if I couldn’t kill him, maybe no one else could. So one attachment was fine.” She said. 

“Okay…”Peter said. 

“And then I walked into the tower one day, and your Перхоть подзалупная ( _just know its a bad insult)_ self was sitting on the sofa stuttering to Bruce about the scientific papers you had read about him. And when I tried to sneak up on you, what did you do?” She asked. 

“I turned around to say hi?” Peter asked. 

“Exactly. Not one person on earth has ever been able to do that before. So in the end, attachments are inevitable, especially for someone like you, what you need to do is just accept that you will know people, and they will die, and then you will meet new people.” She said. Peter nodded stiffly. 

“Okay…” He said. 

“And if you ever think about trying anything like that again I will personally be sure to murder every. Single. Person. On this team in the slowest and most terrifying ways I know how. Don’t think I won’t.” She said, turning to leave. 

“Natasha, we are talking about this next time I see you!” Sam said. 

“Чтоб у тебя хуй во лбу вырос!” _May a dick grow on your forehead_ She replied. 

He looked to Peter for translation, but Peter was too busy looking horrified. 

“Alright, fine. Tony, you can talk to him.” Sam said, surrendering. 

0o0o0o

Peter shifted in the bed as he watched his mentor walk the short length of the windowed hall and wing open the door. Either Sam really trusted Tony, or, more likely, he had given up. Tony also sat on the edge of Peter's bed, although he looked far less rigid than Natasha had, and stared at him. 

“...Hi Mr. Stark.” He said finally. 

“Peter Benjamin Parker, what the hell were you thinking?” Tony finally asked. 

Peter lowered his eyes, not wanting to meet his mentor's gaze. 

“Seriously, I want to know.” 

“I… I was thinking that… well… I just…” He said. He could feel the tears he had somehow managed to avoid until now building up in his throat. “I just didn’t want you guys to get hurt because of me.” 

“Peter- hey, eye contact, we’ve talked about this,” Tony said. 

They had actually, he hated it. 

“We all have incredibly dangerous jobs, and we will probably get hurt during them, there is even, and I know you don’t like to think about this, but there is even a possibility one of us would die, but you know what?” He asked. 

Peter shook his head, not at all trusting his voice right now. 

“You have saved all of our lives, and I’m not just talking about during fights. I know what Wanda showed you, she, believe it or not, agreed to let me see some of it, and as awful as it was, I am 100% sure it’s true.” tony said. “I know I for one wouldn’t be alive right now if you hadn’t decided to walk on in here.” He said. 

“Didn’t… didn’t you recruit me?” Peter asked. 

“Eh, details. Plus, I knew your aunt, maybe not as well as you, but I still knew her, and I can guarantee you don’t want to go to heaven because of your own actions, she’d punt you straight down to hell.” 

Peter laughed a little at that, because honestly, it sounded plausible. 

“Thanks.” He said, wincing at the waver in his voice. 

“Don’t thank me, just don’t ever do it again, alright? We still have Bucky to deal with.” He said, making Peter laugh a little more. 

Tony hugged him, before whispering. “I’m going to leave and send MJ in here, okay? Hold onto your spidey suit too because even I’m scared of her. And I live with Natasha.” 

Tony left shortly after and, true to his word, MJ came in. She looked like she had been crying for a long time, and when Peter waved at her, she just started crying again. 

“...Sorry?” He said. 

“You are an idiot Penis.” she said, still refusing to call him by his real name. 

“Yeah, I know.” He said. 

Before he had time to give an explanation of any kind, she grabbed his face and kissed him before running back out. 

“Uh.” He said. “Friday, did I just imagine that?” 

“No sir, I do not believe you did.” Friday said. “The footage has been saved in three sepret files.” 

“Huh.” He said, smiling. 

He felt himself getting tired again, a side effect of superhealing, and could just barely make out the noises from the hallway. 

“....Bucky...Corona...No, something something, toilet.” 

Sounded like home. 

fin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it! Stay safe with the virus out there!

“Oh… my...gosh.” MJ said, running into the hallway. 

“MJ, are you okay?” Clint asked. Instead of responding, she darted down the hallway, trying to push past him. Clint was unfazed, grabbing her by her arms and lifting her into the air. “Hey Nat, come help me fix her.” 

“What did she do?” Natasha asked. MJ tilted her head away from the redhead's deductive face. 

“Nothing. Put me down!” She said, squirming, hoping she would be able to loosen Clint's grip. It had the opposite effect. 

“Okay, Nat, Bucky’s licking a toilet, let's get her out of here for now,” Clint said. Natasha nodded and started walking. 

“We’re going down to our-” 

“Your!” Natasha corrected from several paces ahead. 

“Sorry, ‘my’ apartment. It’s only a few floors down. Tony’s already helped me get a bunch of your stuff in there.” Clint said, adjusting his grip on her so she was slung over his shoulder. 

“Let go of me!” She said, trying to bite the hand holding her. He just broke unto a jog. 

“For that, we’re taking the stairs!” Clint said. “Race you ‘Tasha!” Natasha just smiled and waved from the hallway. 

One very bumpy trip down, they were standing in what looked like an apartment. It wasn’t small by any means but had a lot less empty floor space than the rest of the tower, each room, as far as she could see, was filled with furniture and appliances. Over almost every surface someone had draped a blanket, and there were framed photos of everyone in the tower on his wall. 

“This is our apartment!” Clint said. 

“Your apartment.” Natasha corrected, stepping out of a room down the hall. Clint smiled at her. 

“Right. ‘My’ apartment.” He said. 

“Lose the air quotes Barton, I don’t live here,” Natasha said. Clint ignored her, instead focusing on MJ. 

“I’m gonna let you down okay? Please don’t try to run again, it’ll make all of this harder.” Clint said, slowly lowering her to the ground. The moment her feet were back on the floor she bolted to the other side of the room. She wasn’t stupid or desperate enough to try the stairwell. 

Clint stepped forward, raising his hands so she could see them, and gently put one hand on her shoulder, guiding her to the sofa. She sat willingly, kicking off her converse and curling into herself. Clint pulled one of the blankets off the sofa and wrapped it around her. She covered her face with her hands. 

“What did I do?” she asked, rubbing her face, grateful, not for the first time that day, that all the makeup she would have been wearing had smeared off. 

“It wasn’t so bad, although you didn’t even stab him,” Nat said, sitting on the other side of her. “We’ll really need to work on that.” 

“You know, not everyone thinks stabbing is an integral part of kissing,” Clint said, looking at her over MJ’s shoulders. “That is just a special Natasha thing.” 

“The point is,” Natasha said, not acknowledging him, “That I have seen much, much, worse kisses. Better ones too. Far better ones. I’d give it about a B-.”

“But,  _ more importantly _ ,” Clint said. “I am sure this’ll work out fine. Besides, I’m sure Peter likes you.” 

0o0o0o

“But what if it was like… a platonic kiss?” Peter asked. Bruce, Sam, and Tony exchanged a look. 

“Peter, I have never done anything platonic in my life, but I know it when I see it, and that was definitely not a platonic kiss,” Tony said. Sam took a pointed step away while Bruce nodded. 

“Can confirm,” Bruce said. 

“But like, she wouldn’t have… _kissed_ kissed me, right? That’d be a pretty stupid thing for someone to do.” 

“Why would it be stupid Peter?” Sam asked, taking out a notebook. Peter looked at him like he was the dumbest thing in the world. 

“Have you… meet me?” 

0o0o0o

“There is no way Penis likes me. I’ve been awful to him.” MJ said. “I haven't even called him by his real name in… I can’t remember. Did I ever actually say his name?” 

“Don’t worry about that. I haven't called this  Мудак his real name since I met him.” Natasha said. 

“Again, that’s not really something we want to… bring into a new relationship.” Clint said, patting MJ. “Also, please call me my name.” 

“Иди на хуй,” She said, glaring at him. 

“Okay, not even going to try to translate that, the point is MJ, you did just fine,” Clint said. “Besides, it could have been so much worse.” 

“Literally how?” MJ asked. “I could not have chosen a worse time if I have been trying to.” 

“Sure you could have,” Natasha said. “Like if you were, hypothetically, being tortured while undercover.” She said, glaring at Clint. 

“ _ Anyway, _ let’s focus on something else right now!” Clint said. “Come on, we can show you around the tower!” 

“Really, you think that showing her the rooms in this place will be comforting?” Natasha asked. Clint gave her a half-hearted glare before pulling MJ up. 

“Come on. Tony already helped me set a room up for you, on our floor, because we told him you weren't allowed to share a room with your boyfriend,” Clint said, making MJ swat at him. 

“We’re not dating.” 

“Yes, you are, okay, follow me,” Clint said, taking a turn down the long hallway. She looked at Natasha for guidance. 

“Don’t look at me, this isn’t my apartment.” She said. 

MJ followed the enthusiastic archer, finding him standing in front of a door very excitedly. “So this is your room,” He said, opening and then very quickly shutting the door. 

“I believe Michelle's room is down the other hall, Agent Barton,” Friday said. MJ wasn’t too fazed by her showing up though, she’d been to the tower before. Not often enough for them to know her well, but enough. 

“Right. Don’t, under any circumstances, ever open that door.” Clint said, pointing to the door he had just slammed closed. 

“...why?” She asked. 

“Our job occasionally requires… extracting information.” Clint said. “Don’t worry about it, just, never, never, go in that room.” 

“You don’t have a white room in there, do you?” MJ asked. 

“... A what?” Clint said. MJ shuddered a little as they walked in the correct direction. 

“A white room. Did Peter not tell you about that?” MJ asked. 

Clint and Natasha shook their heads at the same time. 

“Oh, well it’s a completely white room. You are kept in there for days, weeks, months, whatever, and there are no doors or windows. Everything is completely white, including your clothing and food, and you can’t make or hear anything.” MJ said calmly. “Peter really never mentioned it?” 

“Why would he?” Natasha asked. MJ rolled her eyes. 

“You know what, never mind,” Mj said. 

“Did something happen to Peter?” Clint asked, suddenly worried. She sighed, rubbing her neck. 

“After his uncle, he tried to catch the guys who did it. Apparently they found out he was onto them and hired someone to ‘get rid’ of him. Anyway, long story short the dude refused to kill a kid and so they kidnapped him and put him in a white room. It was especially bad given his extra crazy senses and stuff.” She said. 

“How long ago was this?” Clint asked, alarmed. 

“Like, what’s today, March twentieth? Like four or so months ago.” She said. 

They stared at each other for several long moments, Clint trying to see any tells of her lying, and MJ not willing to break eye contact with him, before Friday awkwardly told them they were at MJs room. 

“Can we go in, or we just gonna stand here for a while?” MJ asked. 

Natasha reached around her boyfriend and opened the door, pushing one hand on each of their backs, in an attempt to speed this along. “Okay, here is your room, don’t ask where we got the stuff.” 

The room was, well, familiar. It didn’t look like either of her bedrooms at her parent's house, but it definitely felt homey. The floor was wood but mostly covered with a black fake-fur rug, which went under her bed. The bed in question was full-sized and sat flush with the ground, the white wood lined with drawers. The walls had posters from her old rooms hung in frames, and there was a pile of new sketchbooks and an easel by the window. 

“Through that door is the bathroom,” Clint said, pointing to the white door, which stood out against the dark gray walls. “And your closet is behind the mirror.” 

“We used your rooms for… inspiration.” Natasha said. “Speaking of, we should go check in on Peter.” 

“Why… did that remind you of that?” MJ asked, worried. 

“Unimportant. You should come with us.” Clint said. 

“No-o-o way, I’m good just… sitting here.” MJ said, sitting on the floor. 

“Fine, but you need to come down for, Nat what time is it?” Clint asked, interrupting himself. 

“Four-thirty AM.” 

“Breakfast. You are coming down for breakfast. Actually, maybe you should go to bed,” Clint said. 

MJ nodded a little and waved at the two as they left. Once left alone, she did look around the room a little more, taking in the thoughtful decoration. Even in the corner, there was a defuser spraying a sweet-smelling mist, which she thought was lilac, into the room. The ceiling had been painted a few shades darker than the rest of the room, and had a moon decal on it, standing out against the dark paint. 

Maybe staying with these guys for a while wouldn’t be so bad. 

0o0o0o

“Peter, we're going to need to talk about your aunt,” Sam said, rubbing his face. Everyone, save him, Tony, and Peter, had already gone to bed. Clint had stuck his head in to make sure they were all still alive, but he left pretty quickly after. 

“No, thanks,” Peter said, curling tightly around himself. Tony was sitting in the corner of Peter's bed, attempting to detangle the boy's hair, poked the teen until he uncurled again. 

“Peter, you know what happened needs to be discussed, if you had talked to us earlier we might not be in the med wing right now,” Sam said tiredly. Unlike Tony, he didn’t make a habit of depriving himself of sleep. 

“There isn’t anything to talk about,” Peter muttered, scrubbing at his face. “My aunt said what she said, and it is over with.” 

“What about this?” Tony said, pulling a crumpled note out of his pocket, making Peter panic. It wasn’t the note left on the door by his aunt, it was the other one. 

His aunt had left a diary on the kitchen table and he had grabbed it when he’d fleed the apartment. Apparently, the note he’d read was only the final draft, and there had been several different ones at different dates scrawled in the pages. One of the worst ones he’d torn out after reading, only to recover later. 

He watched helplessly as Tony handed the note to Sam. “Go to bed Sam. Read this, talk to Peter tomorrow, okay?” Tony said. “You’re gonna be completely ineffective if you’re sleep-deprived.” 

“Alright,” Sam said, too tired to argue. He stood, cracking his back, and stepped out the door. As his footsteps faded down the hallway, Tony turned to look at the teenager. 

“You uh, you found that huh?” Peter asked, not making eye contact with his mentor. He didn’t want to see how upset Tony was. The note was pretty rough.

“Peter, why the hell didn’t you tell us! Seriously! Two weeks Peter! Where were you even living?” 

Peter buried his face in his hoodie, eternally grateful for the fact that Tony had allowed him to keep his own clothing. “Street.” 

“You where what?” Tony asked. “You were sleeping in the street?” Peter regretted everything. 

“Technically,” He cleared his throat. “Technically, I um, I was sleeping in the, the sky… or well… my webs.” He stuttered, “It um, well with the curfew and everything, this was just easier.” 

“Why would you have not  _ told us _ Peter? You know we would have let you stay here, hell, even if May hadn’t died, you know how long I’ve had a room set up for you, just in case.” Tony said. “You should have told us.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Peter muttered. 

“Didn’t want to- Peter! Come on! Sam had his own house and I still made him live here.: Tony said. “And aside from that, Peter, you need to talk about this note.” 

“Please no,” Peter said, not caring how pathetic he sounded. He was pretty sure if they talked about this he would break, and he really didn’t want to do that. 

“Peter, that note was awful, and Sam is going to make you talk about it, no matter if you avoid it with me, you are talking about that,” Tony said. Peter could feel Tony’s agitation growing and instantly regretted walking into the homeless shelter. If he hadn’t Tony would never have been so upset. 

“She… didn’t mean for me to find it.” peter muttered. 

“You still read it.” Tony replied. 

“Sorry,” He said. 

“No- ugh. Peter, the fact that you didn’t read every page of that damn book is impressive. I know because I did, it isn’t your fault that any of this happened.” Tony said, rubbing his face. “Despite what the letter says.” 

Peter winced at his mentor's distress. Admittedly, it was a pretty hard note to get through. It was dated back four days before his aunt died, and she had basically blamed everything on Peter. His parents and uncles death, them being broke, the most recent shooting at his school, everything was his fault. She had later scribbled over the words with a pencil, he assumed from regret, but she had still written them. 

“It’s… fine Mr. Stark. There isn’t anything to talk about. It’s over with.” Peter said. Tony surprised him, darting out and grabbing his hands around the wrist. 

“Peter, bud, look at me, alright?” Tony asked. Peter had to resist the urge to shrink into himself, and instead held eye contact with Tony. “That letter wasn’t okay, do you understand? It was messed up and wrong and written by someone who was very sick. There is no possible way that you could have prevented any of that, you were a child, and it is a coward's move to blame the fact that adults made bad choices on a child.” 

“But…” Peter said. Tony raised an eyebrow, inviting him to finish, but he couldn’t find a good excuse for the life of him. “She was my aunt.” 

“She was sick. Would the aunt you really knew say things like that?” Tony asked. Peter shook his head a little, not quite ready to admit defeat. 

“It wasn’t all wrong. My parents were on the plane because of me. And Ben jumped in front of me when he got shot.” Peter muttered. 

“Alright, Peter, none of that was your fault, and I won’t accept any arguments. We can talk more tomorrow if you really want to, but now you’re gonna sleep. Discussion over.” Tony said, holding up a hand. 

“But-” 

“Hey, I said'' discussion over.” Tony replied, using his free hand to cover Peter's mouth. He glared at him half-heartedly, too tired to argue much more. “You should be asleep anyway. Spidy healing powers or whatever.” 

“M’ not tired.” He argued. 

“Sure you’re not. Okay, how about this, you close your eyes for twenty minutes without talking alright? We’ll see if you stay awake.” Tony said. 

“M’kay. I will though.” Peter said. Tony rolled his eyes and shoved Peter's shoulder, making him lie down in the bed. 

“Yeah yeah. You just go ahead and try that.” Tony said. “I’m gonna stay here.” 

“Okay, Mr. Stark.” Peter said, closing his eyes. Within a minute Peter was already asleep. 

0o0o0o 

“Guys, you ready?” Sam asked. The group nodded and filed in. In exchange for Sam not being able to run his normal therapy groups, Tony had agreed to pay him to give the rest of the team therapy. Technically, Sam was already doing it, but now he was getting paid. 

“We don’t… really need this, do we?” Peter asked, dragging his feel behind Tony. 

MJ grabbed his hair and pulled him in the room with her. 

“Owowowow.” 

Sam had, begrudgingly due to his lack of sleep, arranged a semi circle with folding chairs, placing an extra one, which had his notebook on it, in front of them. He sat in that one, and gestured for his friends to sit down. They did so willingly, although only, Sam suspected, because the meeting had been strictly about what happened last night. 

“Thank you all for being here,” Sam said, nodding at them. “I know we had a late night yesterday.” 

“Wait, was this optional?” Bucky asked. “Like, can I leave, because trust me, I did not come here thinking this was voluntary.” 

“Bucky, sit down.” Sam said. 

As the adults bickered, Peter slid down a little further in his folding chair, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. MJ was sitting directly across from him, sketching Sam and Bucky’s argument. Save her forcibly making him enter the room, they hadn’t spoken, and he was actually pretty sure he wanted it to stay that way. 

“Not to alarm anyone, but our spider is melting,” Tony said, looking at Peter's slouched posture. 

He half-heartedly glared at his mentor, not that he could look angry even if he was trying. He’d been compared to an angry puppy one too many times to expect that to work. 

“Peter,” Sam said. If Peter wasn’t already uncomfortable, Sam using his ‘therapy voice’ would have done it. He did not stop sinking. “Will you sit up please?” 

“I’m good, actually. I’ll just… hang out. Down here.” Peter said. 

Bucky, however, who was seated on his right, grabbed him by his hoodie and yanked hard, pulling him upright. 

“...Thank you Bucky.” Sam said, glaring at both of them. Peter instead, decided to try and make his escape on the ceiling. He was judging when the best time would be to jump up when something hit him in the side of the face. 

He picked up the ball of paper thrown at him, unrolling it to see a beautifully drawn middle finger. He looked up to see MJ nod, before flipping him off. At least their relationship hadn’t changed much. 

“...Peter, what do you think?” Sam asked. Peter, who hadn’t realized anyone had been talking while he’d been staring into space, jolted alert at being directly addressed. 

“Um… what?” He asked sheepishly. He tapped a rhythm to a song over and over on his leg, trying to focus on Sam. 

“What would you say to do this once a week?” Sam asked again, not looking upset about having to repeat himself. He did his best to ignore the others' worried faces in the room, looking back between his hand and Sam. 

“I- sure. I don’t really care.” He lied, focusing harder on the tapping.  _ But if the world was ending you’d come over right _ . Tap tap tap tap tap-tap taptaptap, tap-tap, tap. Simple. Keep doing that. This was fine. 

He looked at his arm as Sam continued to drone on, looking at the bandage wrapped tightly on his left arm. He knew the wound had probably healed at this point, but the doctor working on him hadn’t known how accelerated his healing was, and Tony hadn’t helped, telling her he should probably keep the bandage on for at least a week before it was fully healed. The thing was, it itched, and he kept fantasizing about ripping it off his arm. 

Maybe they wouldn’t notice if he did it after. He could wear a sweater or something so they wouldn’t be able to tell. He was seriously trying to figure out if he could use webbing as a decoy bandage when he heard his name again. 

“What?” He asked, looking up. MJ sighed, glaring at him. He looked at his feet, where her pencil had rolled. He kicked it back to her and focused on what Sam was saying. 

“I don’t think that's a good idea Tony,” Sam said. 

“Oh come on, who needs free will anyway?” 

0o0o0o

“Guys,” MJ said finally. “He’s too freaked, you can’t just talk to him like he’s normal.” 

“What do you mean?” Steve asked. She gestured to her ‘friend’ who looked pretty normal if you hadn’t seen him do this before. He was sitting in the chair cross-legged because of course, tapping a fast pattern on his knee with his fingers, and otherwise completely still. She only recognized this because she’d been around him so long. 

“He’s super panicked, and when he panics he can’t focus. Like one time we were eating lunch, but he was so stressed about going home, I dunno why, that Ned talked to him the whole lunch and Peter didn’t hear anything. He only started to listen when I poured my JELL-O on his head.” she said, sketching Bucky and Steve again. She wanted to see how many times she could draw them making out before she got caught. 

“So he gets just like, distracted?” Thor asked. 

“Well, if you want to be technical, he was diagnosed with dissociative anxiety. I dunno what it fully means, but like, he sorta gets stuck in his brain. Anyway, if you throw something at him and yell Penis he usually snaps out of it.” she said, shrugging.

“Great, so let's talk about this and then clue him in, kay?” Tony said. 

“For once, and I cannot believe I am saying this, I think that’s a good idea Tony,” Sam said. 

“Oh, thanks, I didn’t reverse climate change or anything like that,” Tony said sarcastically. 

“Okay, well, while Peter’s not paying attention, what do you guys think might be the best way to resolve this?” Sam asked. 

“What if we let him keep trying to kill himself until he realizes it’s impossible?” Bruce said. 

“Bruce isn’t allowed to talk anymore. Anyone else?” Sam said. Bruce threw his empty coffee cup at Sam.

“Okay, so hear me out… snakes.”

0o0o0o

Peter didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, but he had counted over 2,112 bumps in the paint so far, tapped his fingers 803 times, and blinked every fourth tap by the time he realised what was happening around him. 

“ _ Yo Penis!”  _ MJ called, louder than she would normally, and smacked him in the face with her pencil. 

“Hey!” He said, batting away the projectile after it had already hit him. 

“Glad to see you’re back Peter, we’ve come up with a plan,” Sam said. While Sam sounded professional, he looked ticked off. On an unrelated note, Bucky was being restrained by Steve. 

“Uh… yeah. Okay.” He said. 

“Would you like to… hear it?” Sam asked. 

“Right. Yes. I would.” Peter said, trying to count the tiles on the floor while he spoke. As soon as he started he was smacked in the shoulder. “Dude!” 

“Sorry,” MJ said, not apologetic. 

He picked up her sketchbook and put it under his seat.

“You are going to be on lockdown like the rest of us, that means no patrolling, and while in the tower you are going to need to have someone keeping an eye on you,” Sam said. “If, for whatever reason, you end up alone, Friday will report to us what you are doing every five minutes.” 

“That seems… extreme.” He said, regretting it as soon as the words left his mouth. There was an immediate shift in the room, everyone tensing a little. He darted his eyes, trying to figure out who would open their mouth first. To his surprise, it was MJ. 

She stood up, snatching her jacket off the chair and turned to face him. “Well, maybe next time don’t fucking try to kill your self.” With that, she stormed out. 

“I…” He said, looking to Tony, who seemed surprisingly calm. 

“Not gonna lie, you absolutely deserved that kiddo,” Tony said, patting his head. “Alright, well, I’m gonna call our brainstorming session over, because… I want to. Come on Peter.” Tony said, standing up. 

Peter looked between Tony and Sam, but everyone else started getting up to, so he figured it would be fine if he were to follow Tony. 

They stepped outside the room, Peter following Tony at a safe distance, not wanting to get to close just yet. Tony walked quickly, making his way to the elevator and holding the door for Peter. Peter stepped in, standing in the opposite corner as his mentor, and stared pointedly at the floor. 

“Peter, we are gonna help you out with this, got it?” Tony said, surprising him. “We might all be screwed, and show our affection in strange ways, like stabbing- I still don’t know why Nat is like that- but we are going to help you.” 

He looked up, seeing Tony was serious. In all honesty, he had half expected them to kick him back out once he recovered, deciding he didn’t fit the whole superhero ‘image’ and letting him go off on his own. 

“That being said buddy,” Tony said, rubbing Peter's arm. “You need to go fix stuff with MJ.” 

“What! Why?” Peter asked, looking at Tony worriedly. 

“Why- Peter, where were we in the same room just a minute ago? That was a complete disaster there!” Tony said. “So… I’ve had an idea.” 

0o0o0o0o

“Hi MJ…” Peter said, stepping into the room slowly. MJ didn’t look up from the corner she was in, still focusing on a drawing. He took a very, very, tentative step forward, sitting down next to her. “Whatcha drawing.” 

“Well,” She said, flipping back a page in her sketchbook, to reveal a crude stick figure drawing. “This is Bucky and Steve.” 

“And… what’s going on in the drawing?” He asked. 

“Well… Peter.” She said. He jumped to his feet, racing back to the door. 

“Mr. Stark, she's gonna kill me!” He said. After a brief argument, he was shoved back into the room. 

“This room is now on lockdown,” Friday informed, making Peter wilt a bit. 

“So… what were you saying?” Peter asked, inching forward. She flipped away from the, rather impressive, drawing of Steve and Bucky, back to the stick figures. 

“Well, Steve,” She said, pointing to the figure with short hair, “did something stupid, and Bucky said something stupid, and now they are both upset.” She said, closing the sketchbook with a snap, startling him enough that he jumped onto the ceiling. 

“Well, it looks great…?” He said, slowly climbing down the ceiling tentatively. “Sorry, that was stupid, I-I mean you uh, you are an amazing artist, but um,” She threw her sketchbook to the floor, sitting down after it. 

He stepped forward, sitting down next to her, still keeping a good distance. He looked at her, trying to judge the best reaction. Finally, he reached out, patting her shoulder. She lifted her head, surprising him to show her cheeks streaked with tears. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” He said, hugging her. She hugged him back after a minute. 

“You are so fucking stupid.” She said, wiping her eyes and pulling away from his hug. “Do you even know how awful you were? You lied to me, you lied to the  _ entire team of superheroes _ you are a part of, you almost died, ON PURPOSE Peter!” She said. Peter instinctively backed away from the anger in her voice. 

“In my defense-” He started. 

“No! Peter, do you know how scary that was? To find you at the shelter and then, not a day later for you to almost-” She cut herself off, tugging her hair out of a ponytail. “I can’t believe you! Seriously!” 

Peter didn’t realize he was walking up the wall until his head hit the ceiling, making him wince. “I thought it was safer.” He muttered. 

“Safer how you dumbass! Are you insane! I know you have the weird illusion that you have somehow screwed up our lives, but you were so stupid wrong about it!” She yelled. “And get the hell off the wall for crying out loud!” She said. He slid down, standing in front of her sheepishly. 

“I wanted to protect you,” Peter muttered, crossing his arms to hug his sides. Before he had time to react, MJ grabbed his face, kissing him again. 

“You were stupid.” She said. 

“I just… I need to ask you something,” Peter said. She nodded her head, leaving a hand on his face. “Was that like… a platonic kiss or…” 

“A platonic kiss?” She asked. 

“Well I don’t want to assume,” Peter said. She shook her head. 

“Conference room B has stopped lockdown procedures,” Friday informed, the doors clicking and metal peeling back to reveal windows. 

“Oh thank goodness,” MJ said. “What do you think did it?” 

“I don’t-” Peter started. Before he could finish the statement however, he heard Clint’s voice echoing through the hallways. 

“ _ Anthony Edward Stark!”  _

“Let’s go.” She said, pulling him down the hallway in the opposite direction. “I wanna show you my room.” 

0o0o0o 

Peter and MJ had been hanging out in her room since the discussion downstairs, Peter had taken upon himself to debrief her on the entirety of the towers quirks and where to stay away from, and who. For example, despite acting like an idiot, if Clint was angry, he rivaled Natasha in ‘terrifying phyco behavior from creepy spies’. 

“Hey!” They heard, making Peter jump. “Six inches apart!” Clint called, suddenly appearing in the hallway. 

“Hey Mr. Barton, didn’t hear you coming!” Peter said, trying his level best to not look terrified. 

“If you call me that again I am shooting you in the head I swear,” Clint said. “I’m gonna go shower the blood off, keep this door open!” 

They waited until he was solidly out of the hallway before laughing. “He and Tony are like, dads now!” Peter said. 

“You know, you can get off the ceiling,” MJ said. 

“I’m not risking it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Stay home and wash your hands! Also, you don't need to social distance in the comments section, so feel free to write something!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, wash your hands, and stay safe ya'll!!

  
  


An hour or so later, Clint returned, now dressed in dorky arrow pajamas, and carrying two cups of tea. He handed them to the teenagers, herbal tea for both of them, and raised his eyebrows at them. 

“What?” MJ asked. Clint smirked at them. “Why are you making that face at me?” 

“That doesn't look like six inches to me.” Clint said. She glared at him. 

“Dude, my mother tried to sell me as a christmas present, I’ve seen everything.” She said. Clint just laughed while Peter cocked his head. 

“How would…” He said. 

“Don’t think too hard about it.” Clint said, patting the teens head. 

“I try not to when it comes to her home life.” Peter confessed, staring into his tea. 

“Peter, me and Tony… talked. You can go back on his floor tomorrow.” Clint said. “You’re in the guest room next door while Tony thinks about what he did.” 

“Ah, ew, you sound like a parent.” MJ said, wrinkling her nose. 

“I am. We legally adopted you.” Clint said. 

“Wha- when?” She asked. 

“Yesterday. Don’t worry about it. Now Peter, in light of… recent events, we’re going to let you sleep alone tonight, but only if you don’t leave the room. We have Friday keeping up on you, and I swear, if you get close to that window she is waking me and Natasha up,” Clint threatened. It might have scared MJ more if Clint patted down his hair, but Peter seemed terrified. 

“Okay.” Peter said. Clint laughed and left the room. MJ didn’t miss the nerf arrows he was carrying with him. 

“Why are you so scared of him?” MJ asked once they were relatively safe from the assassins hearing. 

“You haven't seen him being scary spy Clint yet. Trust me, he’s almost worse then Natasha.” Peter said, faking a shudder. Or at least MJ hoped he was faking. 

“Yeah, anyone who wears fleece arrow pajamas can’t be too intimidating.” MJ said, rolling her eyes. She set her mug of tea down and sprawled across the bed, grabbing her phone. “So, whats up?” 

Peter shot her a worried look, before taking a sip of his tea. He then immediately yelled and set the tea down because it was practically boiling still. “What do you mean?” 

“Well like, with your life. I dunno.” she said, shrugging. 

“Well everyone is dead and I’m tired.” Peter said, stretching and rolling onto the wall. It always disturbed her how natural he looked doing that. 

“Hm.” she said. “Hey, is this zoom meeting mandatory?” 

“Yes.” Peter said. “I’ve been doing all of them.” 

“Has anyone else shown up?” She asked, unconvinced. Peter nodded his head. “Who?” 

“...Ned.” Peter said. He yawned and stretched again. 

“Dude, go to bed, you look like you are gonna fall asleep on the wall.” she remarked. Peter did look awfully tired, and the fact that he was wearing one of the hoodies Bucky had given him, which was approximately 5 sizes too big, wasn’t helping. 

“M’ not tired.” Peter said. She just rolled her eyes. 

“Go to bed or I am posting your Spotify playlist to the school webpage.” She threatened. He widened his eyes. His playlist was dorkier then the rest of him. 

“Fine,” He pouted, crawling up the ceiling and out the door. She rolled her eyes at him, before turning back to her phone. 

0o0o0o

It was four in the morning, and MJ had just started thinking about going to sleep, when Friday spoke. 

“Michele?” Friday said. She wouldn’t admit to jumping out of her bed the way she had, but it had totally happened. 

“AHH- um, I mean, what?” She asked, retrieving her phone from where she had thrown it across the room. 

“Sorry to disturb you Ma’am. I believe Peter Parker is in distress and you seem the closest to him.” 

“Okay…” MJ said, looking at the ceiling. “What's wrong with him? Like, is he dying or something, because I do not know first aid.” 

“Mr. Parker does not appear to be in physical distress. He seems to still be asleep.” Friday informed. 

“Oh, like a nightmare or something?” MJ asked. 

“Precisely. I would advise you to help him.” Friday said. MJ rolled her eyes and stood up, pulling a sweatshirt over her cammi and walked out into the hall. 

The whole floor was early dark, the only light coming from the kitchen appliances down the hall, which she found oddly comforting. The coffee machine blinked the set time to start brewing across the kitchen floor. 

She opened the door, seeing Peter curled in the middle of the bed. He had his hands up near his head, looking like he was trying to block some unheard noise out. She crossed the room to where the bed was, about to try and shake his shoulder before thinking better. When he got nervus he stuck to whatever was around him. Like a crab with pinchers. 

Instead, she grabbed a pillow that seemed like it had been thrown across the room and whacked him in the head as hard as she could. As suspected, the pillow stuck to Peter's head, pulling her boyfriend's hair so it stuck up even more than normal. Thankfully it also woke him up. 

“MJ?” He asked, clearly shaking, despite having been woken up. 

“No, I’m Ned.” She said dryly. Peter gave a pity laugh at her crappy joke, making her smile. “Come on,” 

“Where are you going?” Peter whispered, rubbing his eye. 

“Back to my room. Come with me, all the angles in your room are messed up.” She said. It had been bugging her since they arrived. 

“What Are you talking about?” Peter asked. 

“See, like the lamp is slightly off center and the painting is just a little crooked,” MJ said, pointing to the items. “I don’t know who did it, but it’s driving me insane and I don’t trust you by yourself.” She said, grabbing his hand. She was less likely to get stuck to him if he was awake. “Come on.” 

“Won’t Clint be mad?” Peter asked. She laughed. 

“I… don’t care.” She said, stepping out of the room. Peter followed her, looking concerned as he did, to her room. She closed the door, narrowing her eyes at the closed door, slightly suspicious of the floor's other occupants. She figured that at four in the morning she should be fine though. She hopes. 

“For crying out loud, sit down, you look so freaking awkward standing in the middle of the room like that.” She said. Peter shot her an annoyed/scared look. “Come on,” She said, tugging her boyfriend until he was sitting on the edge of her bed. 

“Are you sure Clint and Nat are okay with this?” Peter asked, looking at her.

“I’m sure that it’ll be fine,” She offered, shrugging her shoulders. Peter looked like he wanted to argue more, but just closed his mouth, running a hand through his hair. “Come on Penis, it’s not like they can kill you.” 

Peter just looked at her. “Yes… they can.” Peter said. 

“Let me clarify, it’s not like they're going to kill you.” MJ said. 

“I’d be fine if they killed me, i’d keep me from screwing the rest of your lives up.” Peter muttered, putting his face in his hands. 

“Dude,” She said. She was going to make a joke, but then she looked at his postur, really looked at it. He was slumped over, having given up on his ridged position a while ago, and was instead bracing his elbows on his crossed legs. His face was creased with worry and he still looked shaken from his nightmare. 

“Come here.” She said instead. 

“What?” Peter asked, sitting up. She rolled her eyes, instead grabbing him by his shoulders and pulling until he was lying down next to her, his ear on her collarbone. 

“Chill out.” She said, petting his hair. Peter did not follow instructions. 

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled. 

“Don’t be an idiot. You wanna tell me about your dream?” She asked, after a moment Peter nodded, looking up to make eye contact.

“I was… you know that building right by the school that I got trapped under? Homecoming night?” Peter asked, looking at her. She nodded. “Well I keep having this dream where I am there again, and, um, well, there is usually someone there with me, and it… I try to lift the bridge and it just… it doesn't work and then everyone dies and then I wake up.” Peter stammered out. MJ nodded, bringing her hand up to play with her boyfriend's hair. 

“But you  _ can _ lift the building you have before and I know you would again.”She said. Peter shrugged his shoulders, seemingly accepting her answer. “Especially if someone else was in it.” 

“It’s just that… what if I screw up and end up hurting someone?” Peter asked. 

“Uh, well then they are going to need to realize that you are fifteen and can’t save the whole world out of sheer willpower.” She said. 

“Hm,” Peter said. She could tell he still didn’t agree with her, but he seemed too tired to argue. 

“Just go to sleep weirdo.” She said, putting a pillow on over his head. He swatted her away, but grabbed the pillow and shoved it under his head. 

“Night.” He muttered.

She continued to pet his head, waiting until his breathing evened out, before reaching back to grab her phone. Unfortunately, she found that he had stuck to her, making her backbend to unplug it. She redirected until she ended up in a similar position as she’d been in before, clicking her phone and opening Tik Tok. 

“The blue light will keep you up.” Clint's voice said, making her jump. Peter’s body weight kept her on the bed, but she swiveled to try and see him. 

“ _ Where ARE you?” _ She hissed, turning to try and see. Her room appeared completely empty. 

“Natasha, have you been letting her use her phone this whole time?” Clint asked. She saw out of the corner of her eye, the lid to her hamper move. 

“Clint are you in the hamper?” She hissed. The hamper swiveled to face her.

“You sleep with your phone all the time Clint, you have no moral high ground here.” Natasha hissed, vaguely from the ceiling. MJ glared at it. 

“Yes, but see, I'm an adult, and she is a baby.” Clint argued back.

“Have you been here the whole time?” She asked. 

“What did you expect? We’re spies!” Clint said. The hamper shakes with emphasis. She flipped it off and turned the phone back on. The hamper lid popped open. 

“Well, if they're both in here, I’ma go.” Natasha said. She didn’t hear anything after, making her assume that she had left. Clint jumped out of the hamper and grabbed her phone. 

“What! Dude, give that back!” She said, trying to get up. Peter however, remained stuck to her. 

“Sleep,” Clint said, squishing her face into a pillow. 

“No!” She said, reaching out again. 

“And if any…  _ funny business _ … happens, I’ll see.” Clint said, taking her phone and putting it back on it’s charger, before returning to the hamper.

“Funny- how old are you?” She asked, trying to throw something at him. Unfortunately, the only thing within reach was a lamp, which only made it about half way across the room before getting caught on the cord. 

“Haha!” Clint said. “Uh… I mean… good try…?” 

“Ugh.” She said. 

“Sleep.”

0o0o0o

“Wake up!” Clint yelled, banging a pan over MJ and Peter's head. Natasha followed behind, firing a round of rubber bullets at their legs. “Natasha!” 

“Oh shush, they’re rubber,” Natasha said. By now, MJ had bolted up out of bed and was staring at them blankly. Peter rolled over, seemingly unbothered. 

“What- are you insane! What’s going on! Why are you shooting me?” She yelped, jumping up. Thankfully Peter had sense unstuck to her, allowing her to do so. 

“Come on, we’re gonna have breakfast, and then training starts!” Clint said happily. “And the shooting was Natashas fault.” 

“Jeeze!” She said. “Peter is this normal?” she asked. The lump on her bed did not move. “Peter. Peter. Peter. Penis. Penis. Penis.” 

“See, now you know just how hard it is to wake up one of you teenagers.” Clint said. “I'm pretty sure I once actually saw Peter sleep through an earthquake.” 

“Why does that not surprise me,” MJ said. She threw a pillow at him as hard as she could, only resulting in the pillow sticking to Peter's face. 

“Nnnngh.” Peter said, rolling away from her father, getting dangerously close to the edge. 

:Akright, good luck waking him up, once you get up let us know, we’re gonna make breakfast.” Ckint said, grinning. 

“Breakfast?: Peter asked, sitting up. 

“Oh look, it lives.” She quipped. Peter just jumped out of her bed, looking rather discombobulated, and made his way out the door, smacking into the doorframe in the process. “Smooth.” 

“Okay, get dressed, I’m making waffles!” Clint said, following Peter out of the room. Natasha just stared at her for a minute, not moving. 

“What?” She asked finally, trying to figure out how to open her closet. It had a see through glass door, but it didn’t swing open or slide. Natasha walked up and pulled up from the floor before looking at her again. “Did I… do something?” 

“No.” Nat said finally. “Do you know your parents' first names?” 

“Tom and Sugar. Why?” She asked. Natasha just nodded and left. “Wait WHY?” 

“You’re missing the waffles!” Clint called. She grumbled a response and closed the door to get changed. 

0o0o0o

“Peter, Sam Willson has requested you speak with him on his floor please,” Friday said, interrupting Peter’s homework. 

“Okay okay, just let me finish-” He started. MJ walked by and grabbed his laptop. “Hey!” 

“Move it Penis,” MJ said. He rolled his eyes but stood up, stretching before walking towards the elevator. “What’s your password?” 

“The first 25 digits of Pi!” He called back, thankful that the elevator doors closed before he could hear her response. He didn’t need to press a button, Friday automatically took him to Sam's floor and announced his arrival as soon as the doors opened. 

“Hi Peter,” Sam said, walking into the room. He smiled and waved, still a little cautious. “Why don’t you come sit down.” 

He followed Sam to a room, which looked more like a den then whatever weird therapy thing he had expected. Definitely nothing like the school counselor he had been made to see when his uncle died. “This is a nice office.” 

“Thank you,” Sam said. “After Clint and Natasha were in here I had to add plastic to everything to protect it. Then Loki turned it into eyes.” Sam said, looking vaguely disappointed. Peter laughed uncomfortably.

“Why am I uh, in here?” Peter asked. 

“I just want to ask you a couple of questions,” Sam said. “Don’t look so scared.” 

“Heh.” 

0o0o0o

PEter left, feeling massively uncomfortable, and vaguely sad, and went back to retrieve his computer. When the doors opened, however, he found Natasha, standing next to MJ, smiling. 

“Okay MJ, so hold the heat tracker up to the wall, see the outline there?” Natasha asked. MJ nodded. “Alright, that’s your target. Take your shot.” 

MJ pulled out a gun from… somewhere, Peter wasn’t too sure and shot the wall five times, the bullets gliding through the drywall and strait into the next room. A second later Clint walked out. “That was really good MJ!” 

“Are you killing Clint?” He asked. 

“I only get shot when I want to get shot,” Clint replied, looking completely unfazed. 

“Then why do you get shot so much?” Peter asked. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Clint said. “Here, come with me.” Clint led Peter behind the wall again. “Because you, for some reason, have something against killing people, we’re gonna work on your dodging, okay?”

“Sure,” Peter said. 

“Alright, let me show you what me and Natasha do when we do this drill,” Clint said, moving to the left. A few seconds later, eight consecutive bullets fired through the wall, at the same time as Clint ducked down and then rolled away. 

“Uh,” Peter said. 

“See, easy, Now you try.” clint said, shaking the drywall off of his hair. Cautiously, Peter stepped forward. Several nerve-racking seconds later, his spidey senses rang blaringly in his head, and he jumped up, clinging to the ceiling with his fingertips, more to get away from the sound then to avoid the bullets. These shots were fired before he came back down. 

“Good, but you won’t always have a roof over your head to use,” Clint said. 

“When wouldn’t there be a roof?” Peter asked, tilting his head.

“When you’re… outside?” Clint said. 

“Well then couldn’t I just stick to a building?” Peter asked. 

“What if the fight takes you somewhere other than NewYork?” Clint asked. 

“Why do you think I am a friendly neighborhood spiderman?” Peter asked. “Open spaces suck.” 

“Precisely why you will inevitably end up fighting in one,” Clint said. “You know what’s much more reliable than a ceiling?” Clint asked. 

“What?” 

“Floors. Watch again.” Clint stepped away again, and not one second later, eight bullets whizzed through the wall in quick succession. Clint ducked down and rolled away from them, doing a handspring and landing upright six feet away. “Easy.” 

“What if I just let them shoot me?” Peter asked. “That seems easier.” 

“No…” Clint said. 

“Penis, quit talking! I wanna shoot you!” MJ called through the walls. Laughing, he moved back into position, even if more than slightly terrified thinking about MJ with a gun. 

“Okay okay, I’m moving!” He called, stepping aside. This time, he did manage to get on the floor, barely missing the bullets tearing through the wall. 

“Good!” Clint said. “Now we’re gonna do it again.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... so I had an idea... 
> 
> While I was writing this I kinda realized I love Clint and Nat's relationship, and honestly, everyone in the tower is so funny, so what would you guys think of a chapter fic with all the same relationships I have in here, but with less heavy subject matter. Like... don't get me wrong, everyone will be just as screwed up, but maybe with a lighter tone? I kinda wanna go into Clint's past a bit, but also I just really like this style of writing. 
> 
> I am also, well aware that my College AU needs to get finished, but I think I might wanna start this first. Anyway, any feedback is SO AMAZING!!! Love all of you!

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, that was an angsty train wreck. 
> 
> Kudos are loved and comments might just make me fall in love with you, beware. 
> 
> follow my TikTok: gretagiselle101 or @mayyourwififoreverbefast


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